I still feel like Mike’s girl. When he was alive, he’d tell perfectly good strangers about me. Anyone he encountered throughout his day was sure to find out about me in short order. The cashiers at the neighborhood grocery store knew of me because he proudly gushed about me while they wrapped the red roses he’d buy me every time he did his…
Blog
In a Frozen World
My fiance died in 2012. In the spring of 2014, I began creating a photographic series about my grief, called “Still, Life”… sharing weekly self portraits that captured my pain, hope, confusion, anger and everything else that comes along with grief. I worked on this series for about a year, creating 40 haunting, hopeful, honest images… with each…
Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum
I sat somberly in an empty hotel room, swirling the rum around the cheap glass, sipping occasionally, all while gazing out onto a view I wasn’t deserving of. Today is only the beginning to a great many things still left for life to lend me. To me, it’s a step squarely somewhere I never pictured myself even a year ago. It’s interesting…
Different Camp, Different Me
*Normally I write on Fridays, and although this post will appear here on Friday, I am writing it Wednesday evening, and setting it to publish Friday. This way I dont have to worry about finding a computer to post the blog while at the Marriott and busy with other things. Headed to Camp Widow / Tampa tomorrow – returning Tuesday morning.
Vacation Reflection
Well, I’m back from vacation. It was really good. I knew it would be. I also knew there would be some tough moments and there were. For starters, on the plane as I sat in the first row with the only TV in the plane directly in front of me the movie “Coco” played. I had been warned by other widows that it was a good but heart wrenching movie…
The Numbers~
Almost 5 years.5 years without you.Don’t ask me how I’ve gone 5 years without you.I don’t know.Sheer grit and determination.And a whole lot of the Love that you left behind for me.It isn’t enough, you know.Having to live on memories of your Love for me.Mine for you.But it has to be. Enough, I mean.24 years with you wasn’t enough.We…
The Fact of the Matter
The fact of the matter is, I’m a 37 year old widower. By most standards, it’s quite unique. I wasn’t married to someone in a high-risk career. Megan wasn’t in her seventies, hell, she barely made it into her thirties. Statistically, I’m much more likely to be divorced than widowed at my age. The fact of the matter is,…
Having All Your Birthdays in One Day
It’s his birthday this week. March 22nd. On this day, I will always “celebrate” Mike. There will never be a March 22nd that I don’t spend with him. On his birthday I purposefully choose to remember the way he lived. I celebrate the life and love we shared together. This is how I try to honor him everyday – not just on his birthday. …
The Colors of Love
I was talking with a friend the other day about new love after being widowed and it got me reflecting on the idea. I ended up describing to her how my fiance and my now boyfriend are like two different colors of love. I really liked this idea the more I thought about it… There is no color in the spectrum that is better or worse, more or less,…
Anxiety: A Poem
I don’t wanna spend my nights with you anymore. I can’t sleep when I sleep with you. But you won’t leave this bed, It should’ve been someone else instead Laying next to me In ignorant bliss and love that never once strayed from the awestruck wonder of its infancy…
I Hate ….
I hate my anxiety. I hate that my husband died, while I was asleep, at home, and he had just left for work. I hate that a ringing phone, in the early morning hours, will forever make me panicky, and give me that feeling, of knives sitting in my throat. I hate that he just disappeared, from my life. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t ever sick. And then,…
Vulnerability
When I started this journey as a young widow I felt extremely alone. I didn’t know anyone anywhere near my age that had been through anything close to what I was experiencing. I didn’t know if what I was feeling was normal or insane. I kept a lot to myself. I started researching books and reading about others’ experiences. That was so very…